13. Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Thirteen
Reaper
Wrecker burst through the front door like the wrecking ball he is, on too much caffeine, already mid-story. “I swear on everything holy, I just watched the most epic thing I’ve ever seen.”
Elias doesn’t even look up from this laptop. “Better than Hugo shoving Riot into the koi pond? Because that was cinematic genius.”
Wrecker grins so hard his cheeks practically crack. “So much better. Our ruthless queen stood up, said absolutely nothing, and then threw a fucking dagger into that chick’s neck. One shot, clean, dead.”
The room freezes. Max turns toward Wrenley, eyebrows raised. “You did what?”
Wrenley shrugs, as if she didn’t just assassinate someone in the middle of the club. “She called me ‘princess’ and told me to stay quiet.”
Everyone collectively winces. Margot's mouth quirks up like she’s trying not to laugh.
“Well,” Torque mutters, “She deserved that.”
Max shakes his head, smiling faintly, then gives me a look, the kind of look that says we need to talk now.
I nod. We both lean down, pressing a kiss to the top of Wrenley’s head.
She squints up at us like we’ve just been caught sneaking cookies before dinner, but Margot distracts her with some crazy scheme she has cooked up.
Max leads me into the kitchen. His shoulders are tense, jaw set, and I feel the shift immediately.
“What’s going on?” I ask, voice low.
He turns to me, resting both palms on the counter behind him. “Doc pulled more info than Elias could.”
I nod. “Okay. Good. We need it.”
Max’s gaze sharpens, and then he says it. “Liam.”
That single word lands like a gut punch. He hasn’t called me that since we were fifteen, since the day they all named me Reaper, and I told him to never use my real name unless it fucking mattered.
My back straightens. “Tell me.”
He exhales through his nose and drags a hand through his hair. “It’s worse than we thought. Sebastian didn’t just get out of the facility; he was quietly released. Vivian was making monthly payments to keep him there and off the radar. When she died, the payments stopped, and he vanished.”
“We knew that.” I cross my arms.
Max nods. “And his diagnosis, it’s not just an anti-social personality disorder.
He's a high-functioning sociopath with obsessive tendencies. Doc found session notes from one of the psychiatrists and said he fixated on a girl he only called ‘the baby.’ He wanted her gone. Or kept. Depending on the day.”
“Wrenley,” I whisper, and my blood runs cold.
Max continues. “There were incidents. The staff got hurt. They moved him to isolation more than once, but the money kept him from being flagged as a real threat.”
“Jesus.”
“He’s not just some psycho with a vendetta, brother; he’s been preparing. Watching. He thinks this is love.”
The silence that follows is heavy. I look towards the living room, where I know Wrenley is probably laughing with Margot right now. Unaware. Still vulnerable. No. Not on my watch.
Max’s voice drops. “We have to be ready for anything.”
I nod slowly, then clench my jaw. “We will be.” Even if it kills me.
Wrenley pokes her head into the kitchen, a smirk tugging at her lips. “If you two are done gossiping,” she teases, “I could use some help in the shower.”
She winks, then vanishes down the hallway like a goddamn temptation carved in silk. Max and I exchange a look. I arch a bow. “Does this woman have any concept of stamina?”
He laughs, already pushing away from the counter. “Nope. And we wouldn’t love her half as much if she did.”
We follow the trail of her clothes like breadcrumbs, her boots, then her jeans, her tank top flung over the banister. My blood heats with every step. By the time we reach her bathroom, my pulse is pounding in my ears.
She’s standing at the vanity in nothing but a black lace thong, hair twisted up in a messy bun, wiping away smudged eyeliner. We’re both staring at her like she’s carved from light and sin.
“Took you long enough,” she says, still not looking at us.
Max chuckles. “We figured you’d want a head start.”
She tilts her head, catching my gaze in the mirror. Her smile is sharp. “I thought maybe you’d chicken out.”
I step forward, slow and deliberate. “And yet here we are,” I murmur, voice already thick with want. “Still not running.”
She turns fully, arms folded beneath her breasts daring one of us to make the first move. “Then shut the door, Liam.”
Only she could make my name sound like a command and a prayer. I kick the door shut with a thud.
Max is behind her in seconds, dragging his fingers down her spine in a way that makes her shiver. “You sure about this, Sparrow?”
She doesn’t hesitate. “If I wasn’t, you’d both be on your asses.”
I grin. “Fair enough.”
This isn’t new territory. We’ve done this before, several times. But every time, it’s like rediscovering a fire you thought you’d already burned in. Because it’s her. And with her, it always feels like the first time.
Max wraps an arm around her waist, pulling her back into his chest, his lips slowly find her neck. I drop to my knees in front of her, mouthing kisses over her stomach, down to the lace at her hips.
She sighs low and shaking, fingers threading into my hair. “Look at you,” I murmur against her skin. “So, fucking beautiful.”
Max palms her breasts, teasing her nipple with his thumb. She arches into him as I hook my fingers into her panties and drag them down her legs like I haven’t done it a thousand times, which I have. Which I’ll do a thousand more if she lets me.
She steps out of them, eyes heavy, already wrecked before we’ve even started.
We guide her into the shower. The water is already running, steam curling around us like silk.
I press her back against the tile, Max’s hand braced beside her head.
She looks between us, lips parted, pupils blown wide with heat.
“You, okay?” I ask softly, brushing wet strands from her cheek.
“I’m perfect,” she breathes. “Just… touch me. Please.”
That word, please, has me on my knees again.
Max’s mouth crashes onto hers. I trail kisses down her torso again, worshipping every inch of her with my tongue and teeth. She moans into Max’s mouth when I lick the inside of her thigh. Her knees go soft. Max braces her.
“I’ve got you, baby,” I promise against her skin.
She gasps when I part her with my fingers, and again when my mouth replaces them. I feast on her, and I’ve never tasted anything sweeter. She cries out, body trembling, clinging to Max as I bring her to the edge.
Max watches her almost fall apart, eyes dark. When I rise, lips slick with her, he nods. I lift her easily, her legs wrapping around my waist. Max holds her steady from behind as I slide into her in one deep, aching stroke.
She cries out, “Liam—oh God—“, her nails digging into my shoulders as I set a relentless pace. “You’re mine,” I growl, mouth on throat. “You always have been.”
Max kisses her jaw, his hand sneaking between her thighs to circle her clit.
“Cum for us,” he whispers.
She shatters with a scream, and I follow her over the edge with a groan, spilling into her as she milks every drop from me.
But it doesn’t stop there. Max trades places with me. I steady her as he turns her, pressing her back against my chest, and kisses her like he wants to imprint on her soul. He slides into her slow, painfully slow and sure, dragging moans from her throat like music.
I trail kisses down her spine, one hand at her throat, the other between her legs, making sure she feels all of us.
“You’re everything,” Max groans, hips faltering as she claws at his back.
She gasps, teetering again. I pinch her nipple gently, and she tips over the edge once more, crashing into Max, into me, into us.
He follows with a deep groan, head buried in her neck, holding her like he’ll never let go.
And neither will I.
The three of us stay there, twisted in steam and breath and water. Wrenley stands between us, glowing, wrecked, ours.
“Well,” she rasps, voice ruined in the best way. “That was… efficient.”
Max laughs. I kiss her cheek. And just like that, the world fades, until it’s only her, us, and the heat we never seem to burn out of.
The room is quiet, lit only by the faint glow of moonlight seeping in through the window. The storm that’s always brewing around us, the threats, the weight of what we’ve done and what’s coming, is silent for now. Distant. Like it’s been locked outside the bedroom door.
Wrenley is tucked between us, her bare back pressed to my chest, Max curled around her front, his hand resting on her thigh. Her fingers are tangled in the sheet at his chest. She’s half-asleep already, her breathing slow and even, her lips barely parted.
I drag my knuckles down her spine, slow and reverent. She hums, barely audible, and shifts closer to Max, like she’s trying to burrow between us.
“She’s out,” Max murmurs, his voice low in the dark.
“Mm,” I answer, brushing her hair off her face, careful not to wake her.
He glances over Wrenley to look at me, and for a moment, neither of us says a word. We just look at her. At each other. At this ridiculous, beautiful thing we’ve built.
“I never thought it would be like this,” Max says, voice almost lost to the dark.
I rub my thumb along her hipbone, memorizing every inch. “Like what?”
He smiles softly. “Easy. Even when everything else is chaos… she’s the calm.”
Yeah. That’s exactly what she is. I lean in, pressing a kiss to the nape of her neck. “I’d burn the world for her.”
Max nods, his hand sliding up to rest just over her heart. “We already did.”
Wrenley stirs, half-conscious, her lips brushing Max’s collarbone. “Mmm. You two are loud.”
We freeze. “You want us to stop?” I ask.
She hums again, then mumbles, “Shut up and kiss me.”
So, we do. I kiss her temple. Max kisses her lips.
Silence wraps back around us like a blanket, warm and thick and safe.
She drifts first, Max a few minutes later.
I stay awake a while longer. Watching them, listening to the way their breathing syncs.
Feeling her heartbeat against my chest and the heat of Max’s hand where it sits next to mine across her waist.
For once, I don’t feel like I need to be on edge. No rifle in hand, no shadows to watch. Just her. Just him. Just this. Eventually, I let my eyes slip closed. For the first time in a long time, I sleep without a single ghost chasing me.